


Burn

by QueenOfFangirls



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: I Can't Believe I Wrote This, M/M, Song Lyrics, kinda sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-09
Updated: 2016-10-09
Packaged: 2018-08-19 15:22:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8214022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfFangirls/pseuds/QueenOfFangirls
Summary: What if John was married to Alex during the Reynolds's Pamphlet?





	

**Author's Note:**

> Woo-Hoo!
> 
> I wrote some Hamilton :)

_I saved every letter you wrote me_

_From the moment_

_I read them I knew you were mine_

 

_"The charge against me is a connection with one James Reynolds for purposes of improper pecuniary speculation. My real crime is an amorous connection with his wife, for a considerable time with his privity and connivance, if not originally brought on by a combination between the husband and wife with the design to extort money from me."_

 

 _His_ Alexander. Cheating on him with a whore.

 

 _Do you know what Angelica said_  
_When we saw your first letter arrive?_  
_She said_  
  
_“Be careful with that one, love_  
_He will do what it takes to survive.”_

 

_"I had frequent meetings with her, most of them at my own house; Mr. Hamilton with our children being absent on a visit to his father."_

 

Cheating on him with that Reynolds women, for years. Their children and himself oblivious to it. 

 

 _You and your words flooded my senses_  
Your sentences left me defenseless  
You built me palaces out of paragraphs  
You built cathedrals  
_I’m re-reading the letters you wrote me_  
_I’m searching and scanning for answers_  
_In every line_  
_For some kind of sign_  
_And when you were mine_  
_The world seemed to Burn_

 _His_ letter, warm and invigorating, putting himself in strong place, especially after he was shot in 1782, nearly living their children without a strong backbone to the home.

  
_I’m erasing myself from the narrative_  
_Let future historians wonder how John_  
_Reacted when you broke her heart_  
_You have torn it all apart_

John looked over to the boxes of Alexander's letters, seeing a traitor that he once called his. He got up, his nightgown nearly dragging on the floor.

 _Burn_  
_Watching it burn_

The letters and John himself sat next to the fire of the den. With trebling hands, John read no less than ten letters, reviewing the past.

 

_The world has no right to my heart_

One after the other, setting ablaze.

_The world has no place in our bed_

 

_"Cold in my professions, warm in my friendships, I wish, my Dear Laurens, it might be in my power, by action rather than words to convince you that I love you."_

 

That creole bastard.

 _They don’t get to know what I said_  
_I’m burning the memories_  
_Burning the letters that might have redeemed you_

The president had no right to know. God had no right to know. Alexander, his Alexander didn't love him, his family did. His sons, his daughters had no right to know this.

 

 _You forfeit all rights to my heart_  
_You forfeit the place in our bed_  
_You sleep in your office instead_  
_With only the memories_  
_Of when you were mine_

 

John felt liquid lava run down his face, sobs and angry wails to be heard to Virginia. 

 

"I hope that you burn."


End file.
